This Thing Called Love
by Nicole08
Summary: Love is not always kind.


_Summary: Love is not always kind._

_Disclaimer: X-men belongs to Marvel, Stan Lee and the other creators._

_Authors Note: This is my first angsty piece. Let me know what you think._

**This Thing Called Love**

By: Nicole

Is love a fancy or a feeling? In a perfect world love is the fanciful feeling that imparts life to all living creatures under Gods creation. It is the energy source that fuels thoughts, actions and behaviors and is the solution to every difficult question and the encouragement to conquer every impossible dream. In a perfect world, love is worth dying for, worth living for, and is the true representation of beauty and perfection. Love is patient, pure and persistent. Love is without fault, blemish or reproof, but most importantly, love is faithful and forever – at least, in a perfect world.

But in the real world, love sucks. Love is a let down that will never fail to let you down again and again. At least 80% of the time love is frustrating and stupid. Then 15% of the time love is evil and vindictive. And just a messily 5% of the time, love is amazing, as in the greatest feeling one will ever encounter, amazing. 5% of the time love is the sun and the moon, the breath that gives you life, the joy of your heart, the light in your eyes and just all around overwhelming happiness, giddiness and profound pleasure.

Love. But in all honesty is 5% even worth it? Is 5% worth the 95% of crap that could and most likely will stem from love? How enjoyable can a happily ever after really be that ends up in heartache and chest pains? Is that what people are really after? Is that what they want? Hours of sadness and minutes of euphoria? Why would anyone hope for such a thing? Aspire for such a feeling? Dare to dream for anything less than love?

But in truth, in all honesty, and in this imperfect world, most people have, most people will and most people do want, crave and desire love. She knew it to be true, because, well…she was one of them. She was one of the countless millions of confused, misguided beings of the world that craved love. She truly did. She did in full understanding of its consequences, its doubts and its unpleasantries. Yes, Rogue indeed was in love.

She watched from the window like a guard keeping vigil from a tall tower. It was a nightly sentinel duty that she found herself performing consistently for the past four months. How pathetic. It was nearing three o' clock in the morning; he was running late tonight.

She wondered who he had been with this time, perhaps a blonde, brunette, or maybe a red head. Rogue envisioned a tall leggy brunette with plenty of curves, which seemed to have been the Cajuns preferred taste.

And he was the preferred taste for pretty much every walk of life of the women population. Gambit was like a magnet that brought woman to him like moth to a flame. It was something he had no control over, it was just something that was apart of him, like his arm or leg. It was an inner torch that burned constantly and demanded the attention and affection of every woman he crossed paths with.

Even though he was in his early twenties, Rogue knew that he had been with many girls. You would think that that fact would alter her affections, change her opinion of him, or cause her slight heartache. But, truth is, it didn't. True, it filled her with more jealousy then she ever thought possible and anger that he would be so eager to satisfy his natural cravings with any skirt that moved.

But his past was the past. There was nothing that could be changed about that. After all, there is no going back. However, that is no excuse for his current midnight jaunts since he had come to live at the mansion four months ago. There is no excuse for his present behavior. And that was cause for anger.

Jealousy, anger, frustration, all these emotions were how she came to the conclusion that she was in love; her, Rogue, the untouchable, the unlovable, the outcast….. in love. What a twisted form of fate, almost obscene even. To taunt her with something that she could not have. She thought she had learned her lesson of liking or caring for a person of the opposite sex in such a way, yet alone loving them. For her it just would not work. It was a fact, albeit a terrible fact, but a fact nonetheless. Because of her mutation she was not at liberty to be loved in return, so why on earth should she even attempt to love. What good would it do? Nothing but harm would come from it, which is why, ever since Cody, she fought against the emotion and banned it from entering her heart.

That is until now. Slowly Gambit had chipped away at her barrier, and somehow was able to puncture a minute hole through the façade which unfortunately had grown into a gapping opening. And over the last few months of his endless flirtations, attention, their intimate talks and conversations, and her observations and understanding of his true character which he hid from everyone else, came the mangled, twisted, dumb product of love.

Love. Stupid love. She felt that it was wasted on her, every rotten part of the emotion. The emotion she hoped she would never have, and yet, here she was. Sitting by the window waiting to catch a glimpse of the man she loved. She could almost gag at the thought. Almost.

How terrible this feeling was, how achingly terrible. So terrible that it would make you want to pull your hair out. So terrible that it would want make you want to do 20 hours straight in the danger room (which is not possible unless your name is Wolverine).

The sound of his motorcycle approaching the mansion caused her to take a small step back away from the window, drifting into the shadows of her dark room. She was thankful for the full moon tonight, which provided her the opportunity to stare at him unabashedly and without reprimand.

As he swung his leg off the bike she watched as his muscles in his tight jeans flexed under the sudden movement. Tonight he was without his signature brown weathered coat. It was to her benefit. With the presence of the coat gone, her view was not obstructed from his very fit upper body which was accented thanks to his tight white shirt. She was thankful he decided to wear white tonight, for even with the moonlight, it would have been hard to make out the outlines of his pectorals in the middle of the night if his shirt had been black.

She sighed at the sight of him. Gorgeous, handsome, beautiful, perfect. Were they even fit to do him justice? No, they were not. Perhaps this love thing was clouding her judgment. No. It only enhanced it because he would be deemed beautiful nonetheless.

If only she could reach out and touch him. Confess her feelings to him, give him her heart and have his heart in return. If only she wasn't a mutant, if only she had control of her powers, if only she could be loved – by him, only by him. But it was not possible. They would never be together. They would never be able to physically express love to one another in the way that it was meant to be expressed. Never.

She took another step back into the shadows, but still had sight of him. It was like she was slowly falling down a dark tunnel. She could feel the sides and tried her best to grab ahold of something to stop the downward spiral, but she couldn't get a grip – and just kept falling.

She did not know how to stop or when she would stop. Her one secret wish, although impossible, was for Gamibt to be at the bottom of the tunnel with ready arms to catch her from the fall. She sighed again and turned her back to the window making her way silently to the bed.

Snuggling underneath the covers, she readied herself to enter slumber land, the one place where all her hopes and fantasies could come true. The one place where she was allowed to touch. She would dream of him tonight, and at that thought she smiled. "Good night my love" she whispered to the wind, before fully closing her eyes and drifting off into a deep sleep.

Gambit was halfway to the mansion entrance when he turned his head towards a familiar window. It was a window that he would always look to before turning in for the night. It was Rogue's window. He looked up at it as he had been doing every night for the last four months. He felt a brief ache in his heart, but tried to ignore it. It seemed that lately that ache had been getting harder and harder to ignore. But he tried nonetheless. He sighed and lingered an extra moment.

"Goodnight Rogue." And with a heavy heart he turned and entered the mansion.

The End

_Thanks for reading_

_Authros Note: The very first line is not mine but is from Sense and Sensibility (excellent movie and book by the way)._


End file.
